


moving day

by rayfelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Wanderlust, a journey to find meaning to life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: Harry is eighteen and he breathes in the salty tang of the sea air. His arms are covered by long sleeves and he can still hear his phone buzzing at the bottom of his backpack. He had told his parents about leaving, not his friends.





	

There is a deep itch inside of Harry.

He doesn’t feel right at home, he doesn’t feel right when out with friends, he doesn’t feel right _anywhere_. It’s there, at the tips of his fingers and the deepest creases of skin, where the small rolls of fat gather every time he bends down to pick up everything that he has not been able to catch in time.

Like his happiness, his will to _be_ , his brain and energy.

Some evenings Harry manages to catch his parents sharing whispers between them, in the symphony of dishes clinking against each other and the low rumble of the television. They worry, of course they do, but they don’t know what to do. Nothing like this has never happened to either of them or their friends.

Remus was never this lifeless, even when he spent more time at the hospital than outside of it. Sirius was never this quiet when sleeping over at James’ became living with James.

Harry stands with his back against the wall and his heart beats heavy inside of his chest. There are words he should say, explanations he should give, but nothing comes out. He’s lost and there is an itch running along his arms and deep inside.

…

Harry is eighteen and he breathes in the salty tang of the sea air. His arms are covered by long sleeves and he can still hear his phone buzzing at the bottom of his backpack. He had told his parents about leaving, not his friends.

The future is just as uncertain as it has always been, but there are savings in his bank account and cash in his wallet. Not much, but enough for now. Enough for cheap hotels and cheaper travel, some food along the way.

Not that Harry eats that much lately.

Right now he is at the other side of England, away from home and ignoring the constant phone calls and messages. Harry is tired of always letting everyone know where he is and what he is doing, tired of the way Ginny had started to drop suggesting about dates and concerts and how her mom would be happy to see him over again.

He turns off his phone and boards the boat for France.

…

France is loud. There is culture and history in the old cobblestones, people that ignore Harry’s British English and pretend they don’t know a word to say in return. Harry learns fast the simplest phrases and the answers he needs.

He does part time on the side, when he can, to either earn some money or a room over his head. He spends four months like this, lost in the street of busy Paris at first and then wondering around the lush countryside for the rest of his trip.

Once a week Harry turns on his phone and reads the messages that still seem to come and the phone calls that don’t seem to end. He puts pictures on his facebook using new library computers, to show he is alive, to share what he has seen.

It gets colder and the grandma he has stayed with for the last week gives him a jacket that used to belong to her son to wear during his trips. Harry feels like crying and thanks her in French until his throat hurts.

…

Harry hitchhikes across Germany, learns how to swear and say _thank you_ in various dialects of the German language. He meets people his own age who speak in accented but warm English, he meets old couples that are still so in love and treat him with a warm dinner.

Days Harry spends hopping around from city to city. In Berlin he places his hand on the wall that once separated two different empires and families alike, takes a deep breath and wonders if it was worth it.

It’s the last day he spends in Germany when he sees a boy few years older than him, laughing brightly under the sunlight and chatting with his friends. He’s tall, with pretty hair curls and warm grey eyes.

Harry takes a picture when the boy smiles at one of his friends. It’s a little sneaky and it’s his personal secret.

…

Austria and Slovenia almost blend together for Harry. The people aren’t always nice, but Harry get’s by. His phone has finally stopped ringing and vibrating with messages.

There are comments and questions now posted under his pictures on facebook.

In Slovenia Harry meets a couple of young boys, Dennis and Colin, who are English by blood and Slovenian by upbringing. They are easily excitable and chatter about everything under the sun, help Harry take pictures of mountains and fields that stretch as far as his eyes can see.

Their father gifts Harry with food that will not spoil soon when the teenager decides to move on. Harry leaves trinkets he had brought in Germany with them as a thank you.

…

Harry is in Greece, standing in the shade and awe of the Parthenon, when he sees the boy from Germany again. This time the other is just as alone as Harry, but there is a refreshing lightness to his shoulders and gait.

Unlike Harry, who still feels like the world is too small and too tight. It’s better, but it’s not good enough. Not yet, not yet.

Once more Harry takes a picture to keep as a secret and then glances up at the bright sun and aged stone above him. Lily had told him she was happy for Harry, happy that he was feeling better. There had been tears in her voice.

Harry also feels like crying all of a sudden.

…

Romania is a splash of colors and liveliness that Harry is not used to. The people are friendly, but there is a certain dark undertone to everything that bustles around him. Harry does not stay in the country for too long, does not dare to sleep over in someone else’s home.

He works as a waiter for a little bit, just to pay for his hotel and train tickets away to Ukraine. Along the way he enjoys the nature presented and the animals that sleepily graze in soft green meadows.

Spring is in the air. Harry looks at the pictures of his mystery boy and wonders.

...

Poland is warm. For all that Harry thought it would be cold and untouchable, for some reason, Poland is warm and welcoming. The heat not as sweltering and the wind nice as it cools his sweaty skin.

Harry has made a deal with an old man who smiles and has no teeth to hitchhike on the back of the old and roofless horse wagon. The mare is a beauty clad in black, with a white spot between her eyes. Harry takes a picture of the horse.

On the way to the closest big city they stop to pick up another traveler. It’s the mystery boy.

“Hello, I’m Cedric.” The mystery boy smiles and there are dimples in his cheeks.

Harry gives his name back and hides his blush behind the summer heat and buzz of the bugs. They go separate ways once they thank the old man, but Harry has a picture where he and Cedric smile at the camera together.

…

Harry avoids Russia. Not that he is scared, just that getting the visa is hard work and time and he doesn’t want to _spend_ it. Instead he travels through the Baltic States, marveling the cities that are old and seem half empty after the crowds of London.

He has spent about two weeks in Lithuania and stands on the border line between it and Latvia when he sees Cedric on the other side.

The other boy blinks so very slowly and then laughs, doubled over and one hand pulling Harry closer with the gentle wiggle of his long fingers. “Nice to see you again. Welcome to Latvia.” Cedric’s shoulders are still shaking.

“We can’t seem to get rid of each other.” Harry pushes hair away from his eyes and looks away from the pretty face and towards the quiet emptiness of Latvia’s countryside. He takes a picture of it. “So, want to travel together for a while?”

Cedric licks his lips. It’s distracting. “Sure. We’ll have some fun.”

…

During the time they spend in Estonia Harry uploads his pictures on facebook again. Lily calls him and asks what he thinks about coming home soon. Harry can’t answer her, since the thought alone makes his muscles freeze.

Cedric is a constant presence in the pictures now, always in the forefront or the side, a warm energy that makes the pictures more alive.

“You’re good at this.” Cedric says one evening. He has dried straws in his hair, the low light of the barn painting his face in weird shapes. “The pictures. Ever think of going professional?”

Harry clicks through the images still on his camera and thinks about his future, about the uncertainty of the unknown. “Not really.”

Somewhere far away an owl hoots gently. The night is warm.

…

It’s cold in Finland, but Cedric’s fingers are warm when they wrap around Harry’s wrist. They sit on a large boulder, gazing into the peaceful water laid out before them. It stretches as far as the sky, a mirror image.

“So why the travelling? Wanderlust got to you?” Cedric leans forward, his hold onto Harry’s wrist tightens just so before he lets go. The wind ruffles his hair.

Harry takes out his camera and snaps pictures of the still water and the tall trees before them, of the cloudy sky peeking through the pine trees. There is licorice sitting between the two of them. “I felt like my life had no meaning. So I wanted to find it.”

He doesn’t talk about the itch that is still there, but now nothing but a tickle. He doesn’t speak of the way he didn’t feel like he belonged there, with his friends and family. There was something missing but Harry doesn’t talk about it.

Seagulls cry out and Harry can see Cedric staring at him from the corner of his eye. The camera clicks away with new pictures.

“Ah, that’s different from me. I just wanted to get lost for a while.” Cedric smiles and it’s sad and melancholic.

…

They kiss for the first time in Sweden. Cedric’s lips are warm and smooth against Harry’s bitten and chapped ones. Cedric’s hands big on the wry muscle of Harry’s forearm and jaw. Something warm coils under Harry’s collarbones.

It feels easier to breathe, even when Harry’s chest rises heavily.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Cedric smiles against Harry’s lips, his laugh music accompanied by the buzz of spring.

Harry swallows and his mouth tastes of leftover licorice and cider. He closes his eyes and breathes in the freedom. “Shut up, you’re even more so.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

…

Norway is a rollercoaster of brand new emotions, new experiences. They kiss more, they touch more, they laugh like there is no tomorrow. Cedric’s breath fogs along the glass of their hotel room’s window, Harry’s feet slide along the rough sheets.

There are pictures of them together on facebook now. Questions pour in like rain on an autumn day.

Cedric kisses Harry in front of the camera and the Geirangerfjord. Harry laughs into the kiss and they fall into puddles and stumble along sandy shores.

The air is fresh and the warmth in Harry’s chest continues to grow in size.

…

It has been a long time since Harry last saw his own home. Even longer, it feels like, since he has talked with everyone he had left behind on England soil and left to find something more to his life.

Lily hugs him for so long; her tears warm on the crook of Harry’s shoulder. James just laughs where he stands leaning against the doorframe. There is talk about calling Remus and Sirius, questions about his health and has he talked with Hermione and Ron already.

“No, not yet. I wanted to see you first.” Harry brushes hair away from his face and looks back, a warm smile stretching along his lips. “I wanted you to meet someone as well.” His hand rises and holds onto Cedric’s fingers.

There is a knowing glint in James’ eyes, surprise coloring the flush of Lily’s cheeks. She wipes her tears and coos. “ _Oh_ , he is so much more handsome than in the photos.”

Cedric leans his head against Harry’s, eyes warm in the evening sun. “Thank you.”

They drink tea and talk, have supper and page through the hundreds of pictures Harry has saved on memory cards and his camera. Cedric reveals he first saw Harry bathed in the heat of the Greece’s sun, quiet and still as a painting.

Lily asks if they will travel more, if the lands on the other side of the ocean are calling to them next. Harry and Cedric share a look and then a giggle. “No, we’re okay for now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have had a breakdown concerning my academical progress and so I wrote this.


End file.
